


Many Happy Returns

by Shiraume



Category: Prince of Tennis (TV), Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiraume/pseuds/Shiraume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Many happy returns!</i>
</p>
<p>A series of birthday ficlets written for Fuji Syuusuke's birthday. This series is set in a divergent future where Tezuka did not go pro immediately after junior high. Please note that this series also disregards the events in <i>Shin Prince of Tennis</i> series. First ficlet is set in third year of their university, the second one a year after, and the third one a year after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Creature Comforts

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Множество прекрасных лет](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133138) by [katry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katry/pseuds/katry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PG-13. Romance/Character Study. 2,397 words. First one in a series of birthday ficlets written for Fuji Syuusuke's birthday. This series is set in divergent future where Tezuka did not go pro immediately after junior high. Please note that this series also disregards the events in _Shin Prince of Tennis_ series.

  
**Creature Comforts**  


[February 28, 2009]

After years of acquaintance, Tezuka knew without looking where Oishi would be: four paces away, one step to the left.

“What is it?” Tezuka asked without stopping, neatly packing away his textbook and notes in his bag. He knew Oishi would wait for him to look up before answering. It was a personal quirk of Oishi’s – he hated talking to someone who wasn’t looking at him.

“Tomorrow, for Fuji’s party? Can you tell him I’ll be late? I have to drop by the lab first.” Another upside of having known each other for so long was that Oishi also knew exactly what Tezuka would ask, if he had to bother asking. “I’d call him myself, but my cell phone battery’s dead. And I’m headed to the lab right after this.”

Ever since Oishi joined Prof. Arakawa’s research team, he seemed to spend all his free time in the laboratory. Tezuka remembered Oishi’s newest girlfriend complain about that when she – the plucky woman – actually called Tezuka to verify Oishi wasn’t spending his time elsewhere. She never tried that tact again, so either she was a fast learner, or her survival instincts rated above average. Tezuka didn’t want to imagine what would have happened had she called Kikumaru or Fuji. Or better yet, Inui.

(When Kikumaru’s fourth girlfriend during high school cheated on him with the baseball team’s captain, Inui, Oishi, and Fuji kept up a net of watchful noninterference around her until the faithless girlfriend broke down and begged Kikumaru’s forgiveness in tears. Ironically, they broke up two weeks after, because the girlfriend found out Kikumaru had gone on a date with her shy best friend on the same day Inui saw her with the baseball team’s captain. The incident left Oishi chagrined, Fuji amused, and Inui unflappable. For his part, Kikumaru, sheepish but pleased, said it was the thought that counted.)

“I’ll let Fuji know.” Tezuka stood, shouldering the bag. “Do you want to borrow my phone?”

Oishi looked like the idea had never occurred to him. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. What about you?”

“I’m heading back. My last class was canceled for today.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay without it?” Unlike Tezuka, who only ever used the cell phone to answer the occasional phone calls from his family and friends, Oishi relied on his phone to coordinate anything from the student organization meetings (Oishi was the student council secretary this year, to nobody’s surprise but Oishi’s), lab meetings, and his weekly study groups. Fuji had once remarked Oishi was perhaps better suited for business management than medicine. Privately, Tezuka agreed.

“Yes. You can return it to me tomorrow.”

“I’ll give it back first thing in the morning. I can drop by your place on my way to lab.”

“That’s fine.” Without further ado, Tezuka handed over his phone. “You don’t have to call Fuji. He won’t answer today. I’ll tell him when I get home.”

There was a nostalgic look in Oishi’s face, and if Oishi weren’t in a hurry, Tezuka would have been in for at least half an hour of reminiscence. “Fuji used to know your routine by heart, too. Back when we were in junior high? It’s funny how some things don’t change.” He accepted the phone with polite thanks, and stepped back to allow Tezuka pass. His habit of letting Tezuka go first had not changed since junior high school, either.

“We were all surprised when you two became roommates. You guys didn’t seem the type to just...move in together.” Was that what they had done? Tezuka supposed the effect was the same; at the time, when they entered university, it seemed like the reasonable course of action to split the rent, since neither of them cared for staying at the dormitory. Three strides brought them out the door, and Oishi turned to smile at him. “But I guess you two have known each other so long. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tezuka. Thanks for letting me use your phone.”

On his way home, Tezuka recalled a less polite version of much the same sentiments from Kikumaru from three years ago. Unlike Oishi, Kikumaru had told them (mostly to Fuji) how impressive it was, moving in with the not-so-secret boyfriend of four years, hell it was practically a wedding, so should he bring a cake? and after a few more minutes of the like, Kikumaru finished with (in his exact words): “Only the two of you would ever find being around the two of you comfortable, so you’re perfect for each other, right?”

Kikumaru, Tezuka decided, was as clueless as they came.

~*~*~*~

During their freshmen year in college, less than three months into the semester, Fuji Yuuta had a huge fight with his father over the subject of his future career. It ended with Yuuta leaving home with no actual plan for the next step, and Fuji of course had to bring his baby brother to crash in their living room for two weeks, until the equally stubborn pair of father and son worked out their differences. Then, in the middle of their sophomore year, Fuji applied (more than fashionably late) for the study abroad program out of the blue and moved to Paris for four months.

_How’s Japan?_ Fuji’s first e-mail from France asked.

_The same. Do you like France better?_ Tezuka replied.

_France is different. Handsome, well-dressed men, for one_ , was the flippant reply.

That had been it for their correspondences for the next three months. Then, Kikumaru forwarded him a picture of Fuji and a green-eyed, strikingly handsome blond smiling together. A day later, Tezuka called Fuji for the first time since Fuji moved to Paris.

“Do you like France better now?” Tezuka asked as soon as Fuji picked up.

After a short silence, Fuji replied, “It’s different.”

There was an expectant silence on both ends. Then:

“I’m sorry, Tezuka. I was about to go out, and isn’t it past your bedtime? I don’t want to hold you up.” Fuji’s voice was cheerfully neutral.

“You don’t have to apologize, Fuji,” Tezuka said calmly, and thought he heard a soft sigh over the line. “Not to me, at any rate. You won’t be going out tonight.”

After what Tezuka was reasonable certain had been a startled silence, Fuji’s voice came again, still pleasant and utterly cold. “Won’t I? Why is that?”

“Because you belong in Japan,” Tezuka said, unequivocal and unhurried.

There was a short intake of breath over the line, then: “I do like France.”

Tezuka thought about Fuji back in the first year in junior high school, when the two of them were about the same height. Fuji during their third year, dirty and sweaty and magnificent, in the National Tournament semifinal against Shiraishi. Fuji, laughing under the colored autumn leaves arched over Tezuka’s favorite mountain hiking trail. Fuji under the snow-covered boughs, under bushes brightly lit with spring blossoms. Fuji, so uncompromisingly and unstintingly himself – and, Tezuka realized, he would never wish Fuji to be otherwise. “Then I’ll see you there during the spring break.”

Fuji’s soft laugh had been a mixture of mild surprise, amusement, and something else he couldn’t name. “You’re planning to visit here? Quite a trip for one visit, isn’t it?”

“Not really. You’ll be coming back with me.”

“Ah, I see,” Fuji breathed, voice soft. “And if I wanted to stay here? Would I still belong in Japan then?”

It was Tezuka’s turn to take a carefully measured breath in, and then out, just as controlled. “Always.” A pause. “Do you want to stay in France?”

A longer pause. “No. I miss home food.”

“I’ll see you during spring break, then.”

Tezuka had wondered if he should hang up now; the time on his clock was rapidly approaching one in the morning. Then, Fuji spoke again, voice just a touch hesitant. “Can you stay for a little while, Tezuka?”

“Yes,” Tezuka said promptly. Another surprised silence later, Fuji laughed quietly, voice warm and affectionate.

“It’s the least you can do to make up to me. You just spoiled my chance at free dinner, you know. Alain will be upset.”

“Then you should apologize to him.” That had come out more pointed than Tezuka intended, but he said nothing more to soften it. The rueful chuckle from Fuji told him Fuji understood him perfectly all the same.

“I guess I should.” Fuji’s voice, when it came again, was soft with something that never failed to throw him profoundly off balance. “Should I apologize to you, too?” Then, in a lighter tone Fuji added, “For keeping you up, I mean.”

“No. Should I?” Tezuka didn’t even bother to pretend he was asking if he should apologize for Fuji’s missed date. Besides, he knew Fuji would know what he meant. Fuji always knew.

The sound that escaped Fuji was a half-laugh, half-sigh. “No.”

And that was it. For the next two hours, Fuji told him about his semester in Paris, and Tezuka answered his questions about how their friends were doing back in Japan. His sleep untroubled after Fuji’s softly spoken “Good night,” the same one he hadn’t heard in six months, and the next morning found Tezuka tired but content.

Early spring, Fuji returned, much to the rejoicing of their old tennis club teammates, and resumed attending university in Tokyo and living with Tezuka as if he’d never left. The only difference was that both Fuji’s room and Tezuka’s room started gaining significantly more of each other’s personal possessions afterwards. But that was a story for another time.

~*~*~*~

The elevator pinged. Tezuka walked through the familiar corridor to his apartment door. When he opened the door, however, he blinked. In the entire expanse from the foyer, the living room, and the kitchen, as far as eyes could see, there were 8 x 12 photographs, some color and some monochrome, drying on the floor.

“Fuji?” Tezuka called, and a minute later, Fuji emerged from the bathroom with two more freshly developed photographs in hand, and Tezuka nearly sighed. “When will you be done with these?” he asked instead, and Fuji beamed at him.

“Welcome home! Sorry for the mess. I’ll be done before dinner, so would you mind not stepping on them until then? Oh, and be careful when you use the bathroom – I left my chemicals in there.” The bathroom occasionally doubled as a darkroom for Fuji, thanks to being the only room in the entire suite without a window. Fuji loved having windows everywhere and the blinds were never closed unless Fuji had to work from home, like today. Currently the smell of film developing solutions permeated the air, but Tezuka had long since become accustomed to them.

“Oishi will be late tomorrow. Half an hour at most, or he will call.” Oishi hadn’t said so in so many words, but Tezuka knew Oishi. Half the time, he could tell exactly what Oishi would do almost before Oishi himself did. Oishi was _comfortable_ that way.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe I can delay the cake until he comes. Hmm.” With a thoughtful hum Fuji placed the new photographs in virtually nonexistent spaces in between the disarray of photographs. “You didn’t pick up when I called to tell you we’re out of wasabi. We’ll need it for tomorrow.”

“Oishi has my phone. He doesn’t get good reception in his lab,” Tezuka said shortly, secretly relieved he could expect the dinner tonight to be less spicy than usual. “I can pick up extra wasabi after dinner. Do you need anything else?”

“I think I have all the other ingredients. I might need help with the cooking,” Fuji confessed with an apologetic smile, and Tezuka felt a corner of his mouth tug up briefly. Fuji wasn’t a bad cook, not exactly, since with a recipe and a picture, he could reproduce virtually any dish known to men down to the last garnish. It was when he ventured out to create something on his own that resulted in unidentifiable... _stuff_ , which was hardly ever fit for human consumption. And Fuji had really, really wanted to try making a chocolate wasabi ganache cake, and had been looking forward to trying out the recipe he’d written himself.

Personally, Tezuka thought it went against reasoning that Fuji wanted to cook for his own birthday, but Fuji had looked so happy planning for this all week, he simply hadn’t had the heart to tell him to have the party catered.

“Don’t make too much. Everyone invited is bringing something,” Tezuka reminded him, but Fuji only smiled happily.

“I know. Taka-san will probably bring enough to feed the whole party. I really should talk to him about that.”

“Habit,” Tezuka said shortly. Throughout junior high and high school, the Seigaku tennis club had celebrated team victories at Kawamura Sushi. Of course, at the time they were growing and ate enough for fifty people.

Fuji chuckled. “I suppose.”

Without warning Fuji reached over, nearly pinning him against their well-pruned Benjamin’s fig, and Tezuka had to catch Fuji at an awkward angle to avoid crushing the delicate branches. The next moment, he nearly knocked over the precariously balanced glass sculpture next to the umbrella stand, because Fuji chose the moment to kiss him breathless. Fuji made an annoyed huff, but didn’t protest when Tezuka half picked him up and placed him half a step back, out of the range for any mishaps with the little tree (Tezuka had spent a lot of time making sure it remained perfectly sized for their small foyer). As soon as Tezuka toed off his shoes and stepped on the mat, Fuji kissed him again, but Tezuka knew better than to step on any of the photographs even with the distraction. If he did, he knew excessive amount of Tabasco sauce would mysteriously find its way into his miso soup during dinner.

Tezuka knew Fuji, and more importantly, knew himself. No one in their right mind would have called either of them comfortable after knowing them. They would never in a million years consider each other comfortable. But that wasn’t the point with them. Not at all.

Being with Fuji was _worthwhile_ , and _that_ , he thought as they navigated past the maze of photographs to the bedroom (his own; Fuji’s was likely in the same state as the living room and the kitchen), was the most important thing of all.

__

Fin

  



	2. Time Leap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PG. Romance/Character Study. 2,372 words. Second one in a series of birthday ficlets written for Fuji Syuusuke's birthday. This is a follow-up to _**Creature Comforts**_ and takes place a year later in the same storyline. This series is set in divergent future where Tezuka did not go pro immediately after junior high. Please note that this series also disregards the events in _Shin Prince of Tennis_ series.

****

**Time Leap**

[February 28, 2011]

It was still dark when Tezuka slipped out of warm bed and padded over to the kitchen. He made a beeline for the kettle and the teapot, not bothering to turn on the light. In a few minutes, he had a steaming pot of green tea brewing.

With a perfect ease borne of habit, Tezuka reached for the bottom cupboard and took out his favorite cup and Fuji’s beloved green ceramic mug. His cup was full when light flooded the kitchen.

“It’s still early,” he said without looking up, and cleared his throat. His voice was still scratchy from sleep.

“It’s my almost-birthday. I can afford to lose a little sleep and greet the sun.” The chair made a muted scratching sound as Fuji pulled it back and sat down. Wordless, Tezuka handed Fuji his mug. Fuji accepted it with softly murmured thanks, and waited until Tezuka took a chair before taking his first sip. “No coffee today?”

“No.”

Fuji yawned, leaning on one elbow. “Are we still on for today?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Slender fingers curled around the ceramic rim. “You know, you look different when you’re not wearing your glasses.” A sip. “And with your hair sticking out in the back.”

Tezuka barely quirked a brow at that. “You’ve seen me like this before.”

“I guess the novelty hasn’t worn off yet.”

There was a silence after that, but it was a comfortable one. Tezuka finished his tea and rose. “Do you want the shower first?”

Fuji shook his head. “Go ahead.”

Tezuka nodded and headed for the bathroom. After nearly two years, he didn’t need his eyes to navigate through the apartment. Or to find things. He knew exactly where everything was; he knew he’d find his shampoo behind Fuji’s shampoo and conditioner, and there were always extra razors in the cabinet. Tezuka turned on the hot water, and stepped into the shower.

~*~*~*~

Tezuka had always been a light sleeper. And adhered to a strict schedule. When he and Fuji first started sharing a small flat near their university, he had woken every day at three, shaken out of his sleep by a soft but unceasing noise of someone moving around in the apartment. And – unable to go back to sleep – he would turn on his bedside lamp and read until he fell asleep. Which was never. So he always ended up staying awake until five-thirty, when he usually woke up. On the fifth morning, Tezuka was irritated enough to rise from his bed to seek out the source of the noise.

And found Fuji, who looked as tired as Tezuka felt, hunched over a steaming mug. “Hey,” Fuji greeted him without looking up. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes,” Tezuka answered honestly.

“Sorry.” Fuji flashed him a weary but apologetic smile, and Tezuka shrugged. “Where did we put the teaspoons again?”

“Right cabinet,” Tezuka answered immediately, then paused, remembering he wasn’t at home. “Left cabinet,” he amended. “Top drawer.”

“It’s...” Fuji looked down at the mug. “I’m not used to this. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Tezuka nodded. That made it two of them, being unused to – this. A quick glance told him several cupboards had been opened and left slightly ajar. “What were you looking for?”

“Honey,” Fuji answered. “When I was little and couldn’t sleep, mom used to make me warm milk with honey.”

The tired confession made him rise, to retrieve the bottle of honey from the refrigerator. “Here.”

Fuji blinked at him, mild surprise on his upturned face. “You put honey in the refrigerator? It doesn’t go bad, you know, even if you don’t.”

Tezuka held back a small grimace. He didn’t like keeping salt and pepper in identical unlabeled containers right next each other, and he certainly didn’t enjoy pepper in his eggs. But he hadn’t complained. “Habit,” he said curtly.

“Whose turn is it to take out the garbage tomorrow?”

“Isn’t it yours?” Tezuka shot back, voice becoming a tad sharper. It was an ungodly hour to be awake, even for him, and five days of little sleep was fraying his patience.

“Actually, it’s yours.” Was it just him, or did Fuji’s tone carry a hint of bite as well? “Since you forgot last time.”

“Fine.” A short pause. “Do you plan on keeping your shampoo and conditioner in the shower?”

“Where else would I keep them?”

So it _had_ been irritation in Fuji’s voice. Tezuka did his best to keep his tone reasonable. “There isn’t enough room there to keep both yours and mine. It’d be better to keep everything in the cabinet under the sink.”

Fuji’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “If I remember,” he said, and Tezuka felt a frown tug on his mouth, knowing that Fuji’s words were anything but a concession. “Sorry to wake you,” Fuji said, and walked back to his room before Tezuka could say anything else.

Left behind, Tezuka fought down a wave of irritation as he stared at the mug Fuji left on the table. Deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble, he put Fuji’s half-finished mug in the sink. Fuji could take care of it himself in the morning.

Two days later, Tezuka came back to the flat and found the couch and the loveseat in a completely different orientation. There was a large print of some abstract painting gracing their living room wall. After a second look around, Tezuke settled for frowning at the new Christmas cactus in danger of spilling out of its pot next to the couch.

“Fuji,” he called, and frowned some more when he received no answer. There was no trace of Fuji in the apartment. Resigned to leaving the living room as it was for the time being, Tezuka retreated to his own room.

By the time Fuji returned, Tezuka had gotten used to the living room enough to read on the couch. Still, Tezuka speared Fuji with a look as he took the loveseat. “I would appreciate it if you would talk about it first,” Tezuka said without preamble, “when you feel the need to rearrange our living space.”

“You don’t like it?” There was a bland smile on Fuji’s face that bothered Tezuka – mostly because he could tell when Fuji’s smile was out of politeness and not out of actual emotion. “If you like, we can change it back. I just thought the living room lacked personality.”

Fuji’s room at home, Tezuka recalled, was decorated in a way that left no doubt it belonged to Fuji. In contrast, Tezuka’s room, aside from the occasional pictures of mountains and the collection of fishing lures, did not contain any object that could pass for decoration. “It’s not necessary,” Tezuka said, not quite defensively, but close.

“No,” Fuji agreed. “Is it bad?”

Tezuka thought for a moment, noting the way the plump green of the cactus stems seemed to bring out the warm color of their rug (which Fuji insisted on; Tezuka hadn’t even planned on getting a rug when he first moved). “No,” Tezuka decided, and saw the politeness lift from Fuji’s expression like a curtain being drawn. After a moment of thought, he added, “I’m not good at it, anyway.”

Fuji gave him a long look, then smiled. “You know, I was thinking about getting us a Benjamin’s fig.”

“We don’t have enough room,” Tezuka answered. Then, at the expectant silence, he sighed softly. “Maybe something smaller,” he suggested, and Fuji chuckled.

“If you’re suggesting bonsai, you’re taking care of those, Tezuka,” Fuji informed him cheerfully.

Three days later, he was greeted by the sight of a tiny pine tree on the coffee table. After a moment of wry amusement bordering on annoyance, he decided to give it a try.

Two months of experimentation later, Tezuka brought home a Benjamin’s fig, ever after kept to a carefully controlled size.

~*~*~*~

Near the end of their sophomore year, when Fuji returned from France, there was a palpable awkwardness in the air as they entered their flat. It had been only four months, but they hadn’t really been talking for longer than that, and there was enough lingering distance to make Fuji seem like a houseguest, not a roommate.

But by then Tezuka also knew Fuji well enough to add two and a half teaspoonful of honey to the warm milk even without asking. And to read the subtle signs of tension in Fuji’s expression under the weariness.

“I changed your sheets,” Tezuka said, and it sounded more like an offer than a statement of fact. “And mine,” he added. Fuji looked back at him, nibbled on his upper lip absently, then nodded.

“I shouldn’t have thrown all my dirty clothes on my bed, then. I’ll take care of them tomorrow.”

Tezuka, in a moment of rare insecurity, had taken the precaution of moving Fuji’s pillow to his own bed, in case his invitation wasn’t clear enough. Apparently it had been, as Fuji changed into his pajamas and came straight to Tezuka’s room. Nevertheless, Fuji hesitated for a fraction of a second when he reached Tezuka’s bed, and Tezuka recognized the same uncertainty he felt.

“You’re tired. I’ll turn off the light.”

Fuji nodded, and slipped in the bed next to him. Tezuka turned the light off, and lay down, only remembering to take off his glasses afterward. Fuji lay motionless while Tezuka settled down more comfortably, and Tezuka briefly wondered about the wisdom of this whole sleeping together business. They _had_ slept in the same bed plenty of times before, but only after making love, never just to sleep. His bed wasn’t that big, so neither of them had much room to move around. And he could feel every minute shifting of Fuji’s body, which kept him wide awake. Fuji’s breathing was still too controlled for sleep, and Tezuka resisted the urge to turn over, not wanting to disturb him.

After half an hour of holding very still, Tezuka was just about to turn to his side, the need to relieve his protesting muscles outweighing polite concern, when Fuji quietly spoke. “Do you want me to go sleep in my room?”

Something in Fuji’s voice told him Fuji wouldn’t be offended if he said yes. He’d _asked_ Fuji to return, though not in so many words, and Fuji _had_ returned. Now they were bound, he thought, by a tacit agreement to try – whatever it was that they should be trying. But it didn’t have to happen overnight.

It didn’t have to start any later, either.

“No,” Tezuka said, then turned over to drape an arm over Fuji, pulling him close so they could lie spooned together.

“Okay,” Fuji answered, and nestled closer. “You need a bigger bed,” Fuji informed him, undercurrent of laughter in his soft voice.

It was strange, trying to fall asleep with the warmth of another body so close to him, listening to the sound of breathing and heartbeat separate from his own. Fuji’s hand covered his, the contact warm and solid, and before Fuji could move his hand away, Tezuka laced their fingers together. When he breathed deeply, he could smell Fuji’s shampoo – which Tezuka staunchly refused to use; it left his hair sticky – and it was familiar enough to make him relax.

Tezuka didn’t remember falling asleep that night. He did remember waking up the next morning with Fuji tucked under his chin and their legs tangled together, the warmth pleasant in the morning chill, and thinking he’d made the right choice. The choice to call Fuji in France, and every choice he made thereafter. The thought pleased him, and Tezuka pulled the comforter around them tighter, deciding to indulge for a little longer. 

Oh, and Fuji was right: he needed a bigger bed.

~*~*~*~

This year, for Fuji’s birthday, the former Seigaku tennis club Regulars had arranged to go out for an early dinner. The year before, they had celebrated at Tezuka and Fuji’s apartment until wee hours of morning. But all of them were so busy this year, they didn’t have time to hang out afterward, let alone cook for themselves. The dinner was at a French restaurant Fuji chose (nostalgia, he said), and by the time Tezuka arrived, almost everyone was present except for Kikumaru.

“Echizen sent me a birthday message,” Fuji said as Tezuka slid into the seat next to him. “I had to show it to everyone before they believed me.”

“How is he?”

“Busy,” Fuji said, soft and fond. “And – happy, I think. He says he might visit this year.”

“Should we do presents now or later?” Oishi asked, and Tezuka glanced at the large gift bag with apprehension. It was a hassle to carry large bags on a train, even with two of them sharing the load.

“Later? There’s cake at the end.” Kawamura flashed Tezuka an understanding look. “I can drive you guys home after, if you like.”

Since Kawamura was the only one working full-time, he was also the only one with his own car, though generally he reserved its use for deliveries. Tezuka nodded his thanks, while Fuji smiled at him and thanked him. “Did you order?” Tezuka asked, directing his question at the entire table.

“Yes. But we’re waiting for Eiji to start.”

“Next time, you should just come to our sushiya, Fuji. You know it’s no trouble to reserve a room for us.”

Fuji nodded, smiling warmly. “Next year, then. Thanks, Taka-san.”

“Sorry! Had to go back and get my present,” Kikumaru panted as he dropped into the seat next to Oishi, who scooted over for him. “Happy birthday, Fuji.”

That sounded like a good a start as any. The table echoed the birthday wishes, while the waiter, who was waiting at a discreet distance away, brought out the appetizers.

“To another happy return,” Fuji murmured, and Tezuka felt a tug at the corner of his mouth. Time would bring many, many happy returns, and he had a feeling neither of them would ever grow tired of them. He let his fingers brush Fuji’s under the table, unsurprised when Fuji immediately curled his fingers around Tezuka’s. _Happy birthday_ , Tezuka thought, tightening his own hand around Fuji’s. _I’m glad we’re both here to see it together._

“Many happy returns,” he murmured back.

_Fin_


	3. Inter + Twine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PG-13. Romance/Character Study. 4,129 words. Third in a series of birthday ficlets written for Fuji Syuusuke's birthday. This is a follow-up to **_Time Leap_** and takes place a year later in the same storyline. This series is set in divergent future where Tezuka did not go pro immediately after junior high. Please note that this series also disregards the events in _Shin Prince of Tennis_ series.

****

**Inter + Twine**

[February 29, 2012]

The apartment was quiet and still when Tezuka opened the door.

“Fuji?”

Only silence answered him. Tezuka turned on the lights and walked to the living room. Everything was neatly in place except for a mug on the side table with coffee stain at the bottom. Weariness made itself known just then, and Tezuka stretched, feeling a crick in his neck from sleeping in a cramped airplane seat. First, there was his suitcase to be unpacked. Then a shower, and a change of clothing in order. Tezuka padded to the master bedroom, carrying the suitcase so as not to leave marks on the floor.

Tezuka had already showered, changed, and was nursing a cup of hot tea when Fuji returned home. After entering the apartment, Fuji paused, surprise turning swiftly to pleasure.

“I didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” Fuji said, toeing off his shoes. “You could have called. I would have come home earlier.”

“Welcome home,” Tezuka said simply, and rose to boil more water for another cup of tea while Fuji put on the slippers and came to join him.

“Welcome home yourself,” Fuji replied with a smile that felt like home, and Tezuka gave in to the urge to pull him into a hug. “Sorry I’m late,” Fuji murmured. “My coworkers threw me a birthday party after work.”

“Today?”

Fuji hummed. “Because I took tomorrow off.” Fuji’s arms tightened, and Tezuka inhaled slowly, breathing in the familiar scent of Fuji’s hair. “I wanted to pick you up from the airport. Spend the day with you after.”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Tezuka answered, and felt Fuji’s shoulders shake with a quiet laugh.

“Your surprise is better.”

The tea kettle whistled, and Tezuka went to turn off the stove while Fuji slipped into the bedroom. A minute later, Fuji returned without his jacket and tie, and accepted the cup of tea gratefully. “Have you eaten?” Fuji asked after the first sip.

Tezuka nodded. “On the plane. I’ll be fine.”

“Did you catch your flight right after the closing ceremony?”

“I was already at the airport when I called,” Tezuka said between sips to hide the curl of his lips. From the way Fuji’s eyes sparkled, however, he knew Fuji had seen it.

“I hope you had time to shop in between, then. You do realize I expect souvenirs.”

“Tomorrow,” Tezuka promised, eyes following Fuji’s fingers as they absently scratched at Fuji’s collarbone.

Fuji’s mouth quirked. “Aren’t you tired?” Even as he asked, his fingers drifted over the open collar, fiddling with a button.

“Yes.”

His admission had the desired effect. The playfulness gave way to warmth, and Fuji tilted his head, tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll grab a quick shower, then.”

After washing and drying the mugs, Tezuka retreated to the bedroom to wait for Fuji. They would have to make plans for tomorrow – the birthday dinner with their friends wasn’t until seven, and they had an entire day together – but for now, plans could wait.

~*~*~*~

Tezuka had been roommates with Fuji for three months at university when things finally settled down to a routine between them. After figuring out classes, chores, locations of various and sundry, and one rearranged living room later, Tezuka had not expected yet another surprise first thing in the morning, snoring away on their sofa.

“Good morning,” Fuji murmured, walking past him to pull the blanket up to his sleeping brother’s chin. “Sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand. Yuuta was really upset when he called me last night and it was so late, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Tezuka had come home shortly after midnight, and had gone straight to bed. Fuji had been asleep then. Which meant Fuji Yuuta must have called after that, so Tezuka thought the consideration balanced out the surprise of finding uninvited guest in the living room at six in the morning.

“It’s fine,” he said, then hesitated. Having siblings was one of the few things Tezuka envied of Fuji, though he was sure Fuji would laugh if he heard. Tezuka’s birth, which happened six years into their parents’ marriage, had been met with whole-hearted welcome and not a little bit of relief. Tezuka’s parents regretted they never had another child after their first, but counted themselves lucky. For his part, Tezuka hadn’t thought much about it until later, when he saw his friends and their siblings. By the time he realized he might have liked to have little brothers or even sisters, it had been too late. And Fuji, despite the troubled years during junior high school, had always been extremely close to his younger brother. Had their positions been reversed, Tezuka was sure Fuji would be more supportive, more helpful.

“Do you need help with anything?”

Fuji gave him a surprised look that melted to a grateful smile, and a quick shake of the head. “No. But thank you, Tezuka.”

Two weeks later, however, Tezuka’s goodwill was showing the bottom. Their flat was small, with two bare-essential bedrooms and a tiny shared space that fused the living room with a dining area and a kitchenette. The sense of invasion in his personal space aside, it was simply not designed to handle three occupants. There was clutter everywhere, and damn it, Tezuka _liked_ studying in his living room. (Not to mention he was missing two weeks’ worth of his favorite comedy show.) There was a limit to how late Tezuka could stay in the university library, or how long he could stay holed up in his own room politely pretending not to hear the screamed arguments over the phone. This was clearly a private, in-family issue he had no business witnessing, and it bothered him that he had no choice but to witness it. And Fuji was no help at all, stubbornly staying through every argument. (To be quite honest, Tezuka thought Yuuta might have a better chance working things out with their father if Fuji just stayed out of it. Fuji annoyed their father by firmly supporting Yuuta, and irritated Yuuta by asking him to be more understanding with their father.)

Tezuka wasn’t unsympathetic. And he did think Fuji’s commitment to helping his little brother was admirable. But this was not. Helping. _Anyone._

“Tezuka-san. Um. Hi.”

Tezuka carefully exhaled and refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yuuta-kun.”

“Er, sorry. I must be bothering you taking up your living room like this.”

The thing was, Yuuta sounded genuinely remorseful. His quick temper and stubbornness aside, Yuuta was a sweet boy, polite and kind-hearted. So Tezuka settled for giving a shake of his head and sat down on the loveseat across from the youngest Fuji. “Does it help?”

Meaning being away from home. Thankfully, Yuuta seemed to understand him almost as well as his older brother did. “Maybe a bit. I don’t know.” A sigh. “I think I should go home. Try and work it out with dad, maybe. Aneki’s coming home for the weekend and... Mom will be there. I guess aniki can come, too.”

At the sideway glance, Tezuka realized Yuuta was waiting for his response, and...couldn’t find anything to say. Fuji would be supportive and empathetic, would manage to sound both understanding and encouraging. But he wasn’t Fuji, and Fuji’s method... Well, it hadn’t worked for two weeks. Tezuka figured he couldn’t do much damage if he spoke his mind. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the finer details of the argument after two weeks of (unintentionally) listening in every night.

“I believe confronting the problem is better than avoiding it.” There. That was as neutral as he could manage.

Yuuta’s eyes twinkled. “Heh. You sound like my sister. Aniki doesn’t argue, not really. He thinks if dad and I started screaming at each other in person, we wouldn’t stop until we’ve disowned each other.”

Tezuka waited, head cocked to side a tiny bit to indicate he was listening.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere over the phone, though. I need to talk to him in person.”

Tezuka nodded. “By now, your father understands you are serious about your plan. He may be more willing to listen.”

“Now – yeah, maybe.” Yuuta flashed him a crooked grin. “Thanks, Tezuka-san.” Then, he surprised Tezuka by continuing. “Y’know, sometimes I kinda wish aniki’d be more like you. Less – y’know. Less circles. I know aniki doesn’t want me or dad upset. But we’re not like him and it’s harder to talk when aniki’s tiptoeing around us trying to stop every argument.” There was a faint blush on his cheeks, and Yuuta ducked his head. “I mean. Maybe if dad and I actually had a proper argument, we might understand each other better. And it wouldn’t be like, the end, y’know. I know dad’s worried about me.”

“You would know best,” Tezuka said, choosing his words with care. “It’s your life. And your father.”

Calming Fuji down was harder. When Fuji came home to discover Yuuta had gone back home alone, he’d nearly gone after his brother before Tezuka physically grabbed him at the door.

“He’s my _brother_. I know you find it hard to understand—”

And that had been the last straw.

“If two weeks of staying with you hasn’t helped, what makes you think any more will?” At that, Fuji had recoiled as if from a physical blow, and Tezuka nearly let him go. But he had a feeling this just might become a recurring pattern: Fuji unable to let go, still thinking he was _responsible_ for his younger brother’s life. And Yuuta was _seventeen_.

“Your brother is old enough to take care of his own problems. It was his choice to go back. I know you’re trying to help, but if you go after him now, it won’t help anyone, least of all Yuuta-kun.”

For a long moment, there was a dead silence.

Slowly, tension unwound from Fuji’s body, but it was a controlled relaxation. Fuji only acted so calm if he was feeling anything but. When Tezuka released his arm, Fuji did not meet his eyes.

“I’m going to my room to study,” Fuji said without looking at him, and walked away with a catlike quiet, not even a footfall betraying him. The door closed behind him with barest whisper of a click.

Tezuka tidied up the living room and sat down with a textbook in his lap. It was only when Fuji’s cell phone went off that Tezuka realized he couldn’t remember a word he read. After a short, half-muffled conversation, Fuji emerged from his room and headed to the kitchen.

“I’m having tea. Do you want a cup?”

If Tezuka hadn’t been glancing at the clock every ten minutes for the past hour, he might not have noticed Fuji’s voice was still a touch more controlled than usual. “Yes, please,” he answered, then frowned when he noticed which pair of cups Fuji was taking out.

The cups were from a special tea set Fuji’s sister gave him as a housewarming present, made of translucent bone china with a little blue forget-me-not painted on the inside rim. With matching saucers. The tea Fuji chose was the high-quality sencha they used only when they had company over.

Fuji set down the cup and saucer before him with a soft clink. “Please.”

“Thank you,” Tezuka said automatically, and did not ask anything. Instead, he scooted over a bit, so Fuji could join him on the sofa if he wished. A moment later, Fuji did join him, setting down his own cup and saucer on the coffee table.

They drank the tea in silence. After they finished, Fuji reached for Tezuka’s cup, and Tezuka automatically reached out to hand it to him, and their hands met. Fuji let their hands linger for a moment before accepting the cup from him.

“Thank you,” Fuji said softly.

Tezuka didn’t have to explain himself to Fuji very often. Similarly, Fuji rarely had to explain himself to Tezuka. Even when they didn’t fully understand one another, they _knew_ how the other thought. That had always been the best part of their relationship.

“You’re welcome.”

~*~*~*~

During the summer break in their first year of university, Fuji got an internship at a PR department of a large publishing company. It made Fuji extremely busy, but happy. By the end of their first year, the department head wanted Fuji to work part-time, with a promise of full-time employment right after graduation. The only downside was that although the job was termed part-time, the actual hours varied anywhere from twenty to thirty a week.

So at the beginning of the second year, Fuji told him with uncharacteristic hesitation that he was quitting the university tennis team.

Oishi had also quit the previous fall, his schedule having become too busy to keep up with the practice _and_ the research project he was assisting. And as he had with Oishi, Tezuka nodded his understanding and that was that.

Six weeks after the semester began, Tezuka started taking two bento boxes to school. Last year, they used to take turns making breakfast and lunch boxes. Last year, despite his classes being in the late mornings or afternoons, Fuji would wake up early to have breakfast together and read over his assignments after Tezuka left for his classes. But these days, Fuji, exhausted after his long days, was always asleep when Tezuka left in the morning. And Fuji was rarely home for dinner. It was just easier for Tezuka to stay late at the campus and finish his assignments before coming back to the flat to sleep.

Three months into the semester, Oishi invited Tezuka for a Sunday lunch together. Oishi gave him a searching look before asking, “Has the semester been busy for you, Tezuka?”

“Yes.”

“How are you doing? How’s Fuji?” 

It occurred to Tezuka then that he hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with Fuji for over two months. They didn’t have any classes in common, so without the tennis practice, they rarely ran into each other on campus. And when they did, Fuji seemed tired to the point of being stressed, and Tezuka couldn’t find anything to talk about beyond basic inquiries about their daily life, chores, or classes.

Tezuka knew he’d been silent for too long by the way Oishi’s searching gaze shifted to a concerned one. So he settled on, “Busy,” and did not elaborate.

“Eiji emailed me the other day. He said Fuji was stressed about working long hours.”

“It’s what he chose.”

Oishi looked at him for a long moment. “I saw you in the library after hours lately. I thought you preferred studying at home?”

“The library is more convenient.” Something about Oishi’s gaze was beginning to make him uncomfortable, so Tezuka added, “It saves me time if I finish my assignments on campus.”

“Tezuka.” A soft sigh, and Oishi reached over the table to touch Tezuka’s wrist, gently. “When was the last time the two of you actually had a conversation?”

Kikumaru should learn to mind his own business, Tezuka thought sourly. What annoyed him the most was that Kikumaru never actually said anything to Tezuka himself, always opting to talk indirectly through Fuji or Oishi. Like now. Which made it difficult for Tezuka to cut him off like he deserved.

“We’ve both been busy. Even if we have time, we’re not obligated to spend it together.”

That had come out sharper than Tezuka intended, but Oishi was unfazed. “I think you two should talk. And you definitely need to talk to Fuji about his schedule. I’ve seen him around the campus, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so stressed before. Or ever.” Oishi’s direct, honest eyes were still on him, and Tezuka couldn’t avoid those eyes, not without feeling like a coward. It didn’t make him any less uncomfortable, however.

“It’s his own business.”

Oishi frowned, and Tezuka held back a sigh. He’d hoped that was brusque enough to make Oishi drop the subject. Apparently Oishi wasn’t taking a hint. In fact, Oishi looked like he was getting his mother-hen on good and proper now, and Tezuka braced himself for a barrage.

It didn’t come.

“Inui emailed me a couple months back,” Oishi said instead, carefully casual. “He’s kept in touch with Yanagi. You remember – from Rikkai?” Tezuka nodded, and Oishi continued. “Apparently, Yukimura and Sanada had a really big fight last year. You know Yukimura went pro right after graduation?”

“Yes.” He had heard, of course, from multiple sources. The only thing unusual about that was the fact it prompted Echizen to contact him, despite Echizen’s notorious inability to keep in touch with anyone.

“And Sanada – well, he’d had offers. He was well known after all, like you, Yukimura, and Atobe. But Sanada chose not to go pro. So he and Yukimura didn’t talk to each other for months.”

Tezuka knew his brows had drawn together in a frown. Their situation, if it could be called that, wasn’t a parallel of Yukimura and Sanada’s. Theirs wasn’t about tennis, or really anything at all. He and Fuji hadn’t even argued, let alone had a fight big enough to stop talking for months over it.

“They finally talked it over last winter. Yanagi isn’t sure if Sanada will go pro just yet. But it sounds like they worked things out.”

“There’s nothing to work out between us,” Tezuka snapped without thinking, then blinked at his own outburst. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, least of all to Oishi, and— Well, he was also right, wasn’t he? There was nothing wrong between him and Fuji. Sometimes people just grew apart after their interests diverged. But life didn’t stop. They just had to move on, that was all.

Oishi’s mouth pressed in a tight, unhappy line, then opened with a quiet, controlled breath. “Okay. Can you tell Fuji he can always talk to me? As a friend, I’ll always be glad to listen.” _To both of you_ , Tezuka heard, but ignored it.

“I will.”

“It has been seven years since we all met,” Oishi said, apropos of nothing in particular, with a nostalgic smile. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

_If there is nothing to work out between you...what have you both been doing for the last seven years?_

Oishi never said it, not in words. And Tezuka later wondered if it might not have been better if Oishi _had_.

Afterward, just before the summer break began, Tezuka and Fuji had their first argument in a long time. Tezuka didn’t remember what it was about, just that it was something stupid and silly. At the time he thought it was just Fuji being unreasonable, but Tezuka wasn’t feeling inclined to let things go like he usually did. They didn’t argue after that time, but then summer began and for the whole break Tezuka didn’t see Fuji at all. After the second semester started, Tezuka was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t look into university housing for the following year. He did not voice the thought, but did bring home a brochure and the application for dormitory placement to peruse.

A month later, Fuji left for France on a study-abroad program.

~*~*~*~

“Do you miss tennis?”

Shortly after Fuji’s birthday party in their third year, Tezuka had asked him that question out of the blue. Fuji tilted his head with a thoughtful look, tapping a finger on his lower lip. 

“In a way. It’s what bound us – all of us – together since we were young.”

But not tennis itself. Tezuka wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not. For Fuji, tennis was interesting and challenging. Fuji enjoyed playing tennis, especially with Tezuka, but it wasn’t something he could live for.

And it was thinking about Fuji and tennis that made Tezuka realize _he_ , in fact, missed tennis.

~*~*~*~

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, and Tezuka knew without opening his eyes he’d slept in. The warm weight on his right arm told him Fuji also had.

Tezuka opened his eyes slowly, blinking as brightness assailed his eyes. Not for the first time, he was grateful Fuji had insisted on the warm sandy beige for their bedroom walls. The color reminded him of a beach, sun-warmed and welcoming, and did not blind him like the pristine white wallpaper at home used to. He raised his head off the pillow to peer at Fuji, and found him fast asleep. Fuji must have been exhausted the night before; usually Fuji was a light sleeper and woke up the moment Tezuka stirred. Fuji probably worked overtime to get the day off, Tezuka thought with a hint of wry affection. 

Slowly, Tezuka lay back down, moving as little as he could, and closed his eyes. He was pleasantly warm and rested, though his muscles faintly ached with the usual post-tournament fatigue. Being idle never suited him, but this was a well-deserved moment of rest for both of them. He could afford to remain in bed a little longer.

“Good morning,” came a whisper, and Tezuka cracked his eyes open.

“Good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” Fuji’s voice was still scratchy from sleep, but his eyes were awake, and very blue in the morning sun.

“Yes. You?”

“Mm. Very well.”

“What are your plans for the day?” Tezuka asked, running a hand down Fuji’s bare arm. He wasn’t inclined to leave the bed in a hurry, but it had been a while since they both had a day off together.

“You’re leaving on Saturday night, right?”

“Yes.”

Fuji hummed softly. “We could go watch that musical I mentioned last time. If we leave after lunch, we can catch the afternoon matinée.”

“All right.” His hand never ceased the soothing motion down Fuji’s back, and as he expected, Fuji’s eyes drifted close after a moment. Tezuka smiled, knowing Fuji wouldn’t see it. He liked Fuji best on mornings like this, drowsy and relaxed. It was one of the things he’d never confided to Fuji himself. Fuji’s eyes didn’t even open when Tezuka kissed him, though he did return the kiss languidly.

Near his graduation from junior high school, when Tezuka put his plans of going to Germany on hold, a lot of people including his parents had asked if he was sure.

(Ryuuzaki-sensei hadn’t been very surprised, weirdly enough, though she did raise an ironic eyebrow when she heard. “Different path, same destination,” was all she’d said.)

When Tezuka made it known he intended to attend university, nearly everyone he knew called him to confirm yes, he really was going to university, no, he wasn’t joking, and no, he wasn’t going to regret it.

Only Fuji never asked Tezuka if he was sure. “You’d never say it otherwise,” Fuji said, and agreed to share a flat with him for their first year of university. (With Fuji, some things really were that easy.) And then, somehow or other, every year thereafter. (And some things really, really weren’t.) However, in their fourth year, when Tezuka brought up his post-graduation plans, Fuji was the only one whose response Tezuka couldn’t predict. To be precise, Fuji hadn’t given him much of one beyond a neutral hum and a nod.

“Were you surprised when I said I wanted to go pro?”

The question made Fuji still under his hand. When Fuji opened his eyes a second later, they were surprisingly alert for all his sleepy languor of the moment before. “Well – not exactly. I know _you_ thought you’d chosen otherwise. But for me...” Fuji hesitated, then continued after stealing a glance at Tezuka. “I don’t know if I ever really imagined you without tennis.”

Echizen, when they met at their first tournament together, had been more direct and more impertinent besides. _Glad you finally decided to stop fooling yourself, buchou. Told you it’s way better than college._ Tezuka’s quiet laugh had surprised him as much as it had Echizen. “Ah.”

“Were you surprised that I didn’t continue?”

Tezuka considered the question carefully. He knew Fuji and knew Fuji meant disappointed rather than surprised, but this was something he’d never tried to put into words, before.

“No,” Tezuka said. He wasn’t disappointed or even surprised, really. To Fuji, tennis had been something he focused on because it interested him more than anything else at the time. “I do miss it. Your tennis.” Though professional tennis circuit had no shortage of interesting opponents, no one could be quite what Fuji had been to him. And it was a personal regret of Tezuka’s – but not enough of one to pose a problem.

“But it’s not the only thing that binds us.”

The smile that emerged was like the sun coming out from the clouds. “No, it isn’t,” Fuji agreed softly, fingers intertwining with Tezuka’s. Tezuka squeezed back, lacing their fingers together.

“Happy birthday.”

_Fin_

****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about the shower thing. I won’t name the source here, but apparently, in contemporary Japanese culture, invitation to use the shower from a boyfriend is tantamount to an invitation to physical intimacy. And shower is a must in such a case.
> 
> Yuuta uses “aneki” to refer to Yumiko in the PairPuri Picture Drama. Not to be confused with “aniki”!
> 
> Forget-me-not, in flower language, also means true love.


End file.
